


the quiet truth

by kiyala



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Terrible Parents, oblivious idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 17:49:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire's homophobic parents are coming to visit, and Courfeyrac volunteers Enjolras to pretend to be his boyfriend. Enjolras doesn't do things halfway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the quiet truth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anemonepetrie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemonepetrie/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOLY BEAN ♥

Grantaire is upset. It's one of those things that Enjolras registers at the back of his mind while he focuses on the discussion happening at their weekly social justice meeting, the same way he registers the fact that Bahorel's knuckles are bruised, and that Joly's wearing a face mask again.

There's a debate happening between members about whether or not they have any right to affiliate themselves with the feminist society for their upcoming protest and Enjolras knows that this is something that Grantaire would usually be participating in, at least to mock Enjolras' insistence to help even if his help might not be wanted, but he's sitting in the back corner of the room with a bottle in front of him, not speaking, not listening, not even paying attention to very much other than his drink.

Enjolras supposes that he should be grateful that Grantaire isn't baiting him; the last time they'd gotten into an argument, it had become so loud that the owner of the cafe had come upstairs and threatened to kick them out. The Musain is an extremely tolerant two-storey café that allows Enjolras and his friends to use the top floor once a week to hold their meetings and drink in each other's company and it's much better than having to hold their meetings in one of the empty tutorial rooms on the university campus. 

Their debate ends with Marius volunteering to go to the feminist society and see what they have to say of their offer of support, because he's friends with Eponine, the vice-president. Once the meeting is wrapped up, they all relax and sit back, their conversation turning to personal matters.

Courfeyrac immediately turns to Grantaire and raises an eyebrow at him. "So what's bringing you down today, R? You look like crap."

Grantaire lifts his bottle in Courfeyrac's direction. "Thanks. It's nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing from here," Courfeyrac presses.

"Trust me—"

"Grantaire," Enjolras interrupts. "If it's bothering you, then it's important."

Grantaire looks at Enjolras and sighs heavily, taking a long gulp from his bottle. "Fine."

They all wait expectantly and Grantaire shakes his head. "It's stupid. It's seriously nothing. I just got a call from my parents this afternoon saying that they'll be driving through town in a couple of weeks, so they're going to drop by for a visit."

"But that's a good thing, right?" Jehan asks with a cautious smile.

Enjolras watches Grantaire carefully for his reply. He knows from personal experience that not all of them get along with their parents. Enjolras doesn't even know how he would respond if his parents suddenly announced that they would be visiting.

Grantaire's bitter laugh says enough. "Yeah, sure. If I want them to tell me how I'm just a waste of space. I haven't achieved anything, I haven't gotten anywhere, and I was hoping that by the next time I saw them, I could at least throw the fact that I have a boyfriend in their faces but I haven't even managed that."

He gets a round of sympathetic murmurs from the others in the room, and then Courfeyrac hums in thought, with that look on his face that means that he's coming up with a plan.

"Why don't we find you a pretend boyfriend then?" he suggests, and everyone in the room turns to him, paying attention. "If it's just to piss them off, then there's no real harm in it right?"

Enjolras catches Grantaire glancing in his direction before he quickly looks away and takes another long gulp from his bottle. "I don't think that's necessary—"

"Come on, R, don't you want to see the look on your parents' faces when you introduce them to your successful, handsome boyfriend?" Courfeyrac grins brightly at him.

"No." Grantaire's eyes widen and he sounds more panicked this time. " _No_."

""There is seriously no one better suited for this," Courfeyrac insists. "Right, 'Ferre?"

Combeferre sighs, resting his head on the table. "I refuse to let you drag me into this."

"Grantaire and Combeferre?" Enjolras asks, with a voice at the back of his mind insisting that he is not okay with this. Probably because Combeferre is his best friend and Grantaire is his— _Grantaire_. 

"Grantaire and—?" Courfeyrac laughs, like Enjolras has missed the point entirely. "No, no, no. Grantaire and _you_."

Grantaire drains the rest of his bottle and puts his head down on the table with a thunk. Enjolras can't help but feel offended.

"Fine," he hears himself saying, "but only if Grantaire deems me acceptable."

"What?" Grantaire asks incredulously.

"Is this seriously happening right now?" Bahorel asks with a laugh.

Courfeyrac looks far too smug for Enjolras' liking. "So? Are you doing it or not?"

"You really don't have to," Grantaire says to Enjolras. He sounds more serious that Enjolras has ever heard him before. "No one's forcing you. Not even Courfeyrac, okay. Just—"

"I'll do it," Enjolras tells him. He feels self-conscious, with everyone else in the room staring at him. He clears his throat. "If this makes your parents' visit any less unpleasant… then yeah, I'll do it."

Grantaire's shoulders slump and Enjolras can't tell if he's said the right thing until he sees the nod. "Alright. If you want."

"It's decided!" Courfeyrac cheers. He claps Combeferre on the shoulder. Combeferre looks just as concerned as he did before.

Bahorel leans toward Grantaire and mutters something that Enjolras can't hear, but it earns him a whack on the arm. Bahorel only laughs in response, looking completely unrepentant. 

"Right, well." Grantaire gets to his feet, putting his hands in his pockets. "We'll figure stuff out later, okay? I'm going home."

One he leaves, the others return to their own conversations. Enjolras watches the top of the stairs, where he'd watched Grantaire go down, and keeps his gaze fixed to that point. He can hear Courfeyrac, Bahorel and Jehan talking at the back of the room and he isn't surprised when Combeferre walks over to his side.

"Are you sure about this?"

Enjolras shrugs. "I don't see the harm in it. If I can do this to help Grantaire, I have no objections."

Combeferre watches him carefully, but makes no comment. It makes Enjolras feel uncomfortable, but he hides it well enough that Combeferre doesn't call him on it. 

They have two weeks to be comfortable enough around each other that they can fool Grantaire's parents into beleiving that they're actually dating. It's probably not going to be as easy as it sounds and Enjolras sits there, on the upper level of the Musain until the rest of his friends leave, trying to come up with a plan.

«·»

He visits Grantaire's apartment after class the next day. Grantaire answers the door in a flannel shirt covered in paint, a smudge of red along his jaw, staring at Enjolras with surprise.

"Sorry, did I come at a bad time?"

"Uh, no, don't worry about it." Grantaire walks into his apartment, leaving the door open as invitation. "Just let me finish one thing and I'm good."

Enjolras has walked Grantaire home before in various levels of intoxication, but he's never been here during the day. Grantaire's apartment isn't as messy as he'd expected; there's a small sitting area with a couch and a television, and the table between them has books stacked on top of it. The one at the top of the pile is a book on art theory and there are post-it notes flagging several pages. Even without opening the book, Enjolras can tell that most of the post-its have the word _bullshit_ scrawled onto them. He laughs quietly, and that is when Grantaire walks back into the room, his painting shirt gone, wearing a black t-shirt over jeans. He's wiry, like he skips more meals than he should, and pale. Enjolras imagines introducing Grantaire to his own parents, and quickly shoves that thought out of his mind. That's not exactly something he knows how to deal with right now.

"Do you want a drink or something?" Grantaire asks awkwardly, nodding in the direction of his kitchenette. He runs a hand through his hair when Enjolras shakes his head. "Okay. So I'm guessing you're here to talk about that really bad decision you made yesterday. You know it's perfectly okay to back out if you want."

"I'm not going to. That's not why I'm here. I wanted to talk about how we're going to do this."

Grantaire laughs, shaking his head. "What do you mean _how_? I tell you when my parents show up, make the necessary introductions, and that's it. End of story."

Enjolras shakes his head. "If we're going to do this, we're going to do it _properly_. I don't do things halfway, Grantaire."

"I know that," he replies in a strained voice.

"If I'm pretending that I'm your boyfriend," Enjolras tells him, "I'm not just going to be some guy you're casually seeing. Your parents aren't going to care about that. If we're doing this, then I'm going to be the guy that you've been with for years. The guy you're serious about, the guy who's serious about _you_. The guy that plays a big part in your life, who you've never bothered to tell your parents about. That will piss them off, right?"

Grantaire swallows hard and nods. "Right."

"So in the next two weeks, we have to get there," Enjolras says. "We need to get to the point where we can pretend we're in that kind of a relationship and we can do it convincingly."

"You're making this sound a lot more complicated that it really is." Grantaire shakes his head. "You really don't have to—"

"What would you do if I kissed you right now?" Enjolras asks, and Grantaire lets out a choked sound, going completely still. Enjolras tries not to look smug. "That's what I mean. You can't freeze up in front of your parents."

"You don't have to kiss me in front of them. Jesus, Enjolras. I'm not asking you to go out of your way like that."

"Would it bother you parents even more?" Enjolras asks, "I'm prepared to do anything that will help—provided that you want to."

Grantaire sighs shakily. "What are you suggesting? For clarification. You clearly have a plan."

Enjolras tries not to smile at that. It's difficult. "I'm suggesting that we spend more time with each other. To get used to it. And… if you have no objections, work our way towards a brief kiss. Nothing complicated. Just quick and casual. Is that okay with you?"

Grantaire flushes bright red. "Yeah. Uh, I mean—yeah. We could do that. You want us to practice kissing. Are you sure you don't want a drink? Because I'm pretty sure I need one right now."

Enjolras gets to his feet as Grantaire goes into the kitchenette and pulls a bottle out of the fridge. "Look, if you don't want to do this, just let me know."

"I want to," Grantaire replies. He chews on his lower lip. "I just… wasn't expecting you to come out with that, okay? At all."

"Of course." Enjolras clears his throat. "We can start tomorrow, if you like. I'm sorry for putting you on the spot."

Grantaire laughs quietly. He hasn't opened his bottle yet, which Enjolras takes as a good sign. "That's what you do. It's never bothered me before. Just give me a second, and we can do this."

"Now?" Enjolras asks, surprised.

"Why?" Grantaire smirks. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"No." Enjolras keeps his voice firm. "Whenever you're ready."

They stare each other down, like this is just another one of their arguments and they're waiting to see which of them is more stubborn. Grantaire breaks eyes contact first, licking his lips. "Alright. It's just one kiss."

Enjolras nods in agreement, even though it's really not. He doesn't even remember the last time he's kissed someone. He moves closer to Grantaire, who visibly tenses before forcing himself to relax. They hold each other's gaze as Enjolras steps into Grantaire's space.

"You're sure about this?" Grantaire asks, his breath ghosting over Enjolras' lips. "You don't have to."

"Neither do you," Enjolras points out and that seems to be all Grantaire needs to hear because he looks doubtful now. 

Enjolras leans in, until their lips are just barely brushing against each other. Their eyes are still open, their arms firmly at their sides. Enjolras pulls back, certain that this is the most awkward thing he's ever done. 

Grantaire laughs and it sounds shaky and terrified. "Fuck. That was terrible, I'm sorry. I see what you mean."

"Are you saying I'm right?" Enjolras asks, stepping out of Grantaire's space. It's easier to fall back to their usual push-and-pull rather than figuring out how they're supposed to treat each other now. 

"Just this once. Don't get used to it." Grantaire grins, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"I'll come by again tomorrow," Enjolras says quietly. "We'll figure this thing out."

Grantaire nods slowly. "Yeah. Thanks." 

Enjolras leaves, still feeling awkward, but he reminds himself that this is all for a good reason.

«·»

They gradually fall into a routine with each other. Enjolras goes to Grantaire's apartment after class is done for the day and once the door is shut behind them, they kiss. It's nowhere near as awkward as their first attempt, but that isn't really saying much. They're both still incredibly tense, even though they're learning to hold each other as they kiss.

On the plus side, they're getting used to spending time with each other. On their second day, Grantaire had suggested that Enjolras stay for a while, after coming all the way to his apartment. Grantaire usually has food to share, and it's strangely pleasant to sit on Grantaire's couch with him as they do their readings for class. Enjolras suspects that it's helpful to Grantaire as well, to have time set aside to do all the coursework that doesn't involve painting.

Four days into this and despite the fact that they are slowly growing comfortable with each other, Enjolras is frustrated by their lack of progress. He pulls back from yet another kiss that is much too tense and sighs. "I think we're going about this the wrong way. We aren't getting any better at this."

"Maybe I'm just really bad at kissing," Grantaire says miserably. "We could just give up—"

"No," Enjolras interrupts. "You know me better than that. We just need to find another way to do this, and we'll be fine."

"I'm guessing you already have a plan, then." Grantaire doesn't quite sound _amused_ but his tone is lighter than before. It pleases Enjolras all the same.

"Of course I do. We'll continue as we are now, but once we've both settled down and done some work, we'll try kissing again. See if that's any better than putting each other on the spot as soon as I get here."

"You mean kiss twice?" Grantaire stares at him. "You want to do that?"

"If you object—"

"No, I don't. I'm just surprised. Are we starting today?" Grantaire bites his lip. "You think this will actually work?"

Enjolras places his hand on Grantaire's shoulder and squeezes gently. A few days ago, he would have balked at the thought of doing nothing more than this. At least it means that they're making some kind of progress. "There's one way to find out."

Grantaire nods, clearing his throat. They sit down to focus on their work and Enjolras doesn't even notice that an hour's passed until he's done with his readings. He looks over at Grantaire, who has a notebook open in front of him, the page covered in doodles scattered throughout his work. His tongue is poking out from between his lips as he concentrates and Enjolras can't quite bring himself to look away. He never sees this side of Grantaire anywhere else; at meetings, he's always smirking and doing everything he can to be contrary. Enjolras can only imagine what he's like when he's painting.

Eventually, Grantaire realises that he's being watched. He looks up at Enjolras and offers him a small, uncertain smile. It's all Enjolras needs. He moves closer to Grantaire and rests a hand lightly on the nape of his neck. Grantaire doesn't freeze up this time, tilting his face up to meet Enjolras' lips with his own. This kiss is much firmer than the light pecks they've managed before. Their noses brush against each other as they pull apart and Enjolras moves his hand.

Grantaire clears his throat but when he speaks, his voice is still strained. "Better."

"Much better," Enjolras agrees quietly. "Are you going to admit that I'm right again?"

Grantaire lets out a small, nervous laugh and it makes Enjolras want to kiss him again. Enjolras firmly pushes the thought out of his mind. 

"It's late," he says instead. "I should probably get going."

Grantaire nods silently, watching Enjolras gathers his nooks, and walks him to the door. 

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Enjolras asks, turning to look at Grantaire in the doorway.

"Yeah. See you tomorrow."

Over the next few days, they get better at kissing each other. Enjolras discovers that they both like it when he rests his hand on the nape of Grantaire's neck. Grantaire is much more tentative about holding Enjolras' sides, but Enjolras likes that too. He makes excuses to go over to Grantaire's apartment on the weekend, refusing to acknowledge why he's doing this. It's just to help Grantaire, he tells himself. That's all.

He kisses Grantaire hello on Sunday afternoon, rubbing his thumb over the spot of blue paint on his neck, holding the paint-streaked finger up when Grantaire gives him a questioning look.

"What are you working on?" Enjolras asks.

"A painting," Grantaire replies evasively. "It's nothing."

"It's clearly _something_. Can I see?"

"No," Grantaire says bluntly. He shakes his head. "No way."

"Grantaire, I want to—"

"Stop." Grantaire shakes his head just slightly. "You don't have to do this. I don't—I don't _want_ you to do this. You don't have to pretend you're interested in what I'm doing just because of… whatever. I'm not asking that of you, okay? This is already more than enough."

Enjolras frowns. "Grantaire, I'm not _pretending_ —"

Grantaire makes a frustrated sound, running a hand through his hair. It's clear that no matter what Enjolras says, Grantaire is not going to believe him. Usually, that would be enough to make Enjolras want to argue with him, but he's also learned enough about Grantaire over the past few days to know that arguing now is only going to make everything much worse.

"I'm sorry," he says finally, taking a step back, out of Grantaire's space.

Grantaire shakes his head, not meeting Enjolras' eyes. Enjolras holds back his heavy sigh and puts his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out to Grantaire.

"I should go. See you at the meeting tomorrow afternoon?"

This time, Grantaire does look up at him. He nods firmly and manages a small smile at Enjolras. "Yeah. I'll see you there."

Enjolras walks home, spending the fifteen minutes picking Grantaire's words apart. He doesn't believe that Enjolras cares about him, outside of this strange charade. What's worse is the fact that Enjolras has never really give him reason to believe otherwise. That's something that he'll have to work on.

«·»

The next afternoon, Enjolras doesn't go to Grantaire's apartment because he spends him time after class preparing for their social justice meeting instead. He's one of the first to the Musain, along with Courfeyrac and Combeferre and the three of them arrange their papers and discuss their progress over the week.

Luckily, Courfeyrac doesn't bring up the subject of Grantaire even once as they wait for the others to arrive. He's already been hounding Enjolras for details he refuses to give, and the last thing they need is for Courfeyrac to be asking questions just as Grantaire walks up the stairs.

Even so, Enjolras can't do anything about the way Courfeyrac watches Grantaire once he arrives, climbing the stairs and scanning the room as he always does, before taking his usual seat at the back of the room.

Courfeyrac lets out a quiet sigh of disappointment and Combeferre nudges him gently, whispering, "What were you expecting?"

Enjolras ignores them before, trying to figure out why _he_ feels disappointed, when Grantaire is acting no different to normal. He pushes that out of his mind once everyone else arrives, and begins the meeting.

Marius has spoken to the feminist society and they're happy to have the support, provided that they remain in the background instead of taking over. Enjolras is known all around the campus for leading protests and making sure to get his message across. Eponine is more than happy to use this to her benefit. Marius then continues on to wax poetic about a girl he met while at the feminist society's office and while Jehan is eager to hear him talk of how perfect she is and Grantaire is equally eager to tease him about it, Enjolras moves the topic of discussion along, to more important matters.

Grantaire sits back in his chair, a bottle within easy reach as always, and listens to what Enjolras has to say. He readily tears arguments down, or pokes holds in them, or simply laughs to indicate how much he disagrees. It's infuriating in a completely new way, and Enjolras can't quite understand why.

Once the meeting is wrapped up, Grantaire stays back for a while as usual, drinking and laughing with Bossuet, Joly and Bahorel. Enjolras sits with Courfeyrac and Combeferre and now, with the room full of chatter and Grantaire sitting all the way on the other side, Courfeyrac teases Enjolras for the way he keeps looking over. He keeps his voice quiet enough that Grantaire can't hear, but the same can't be said about his laughter. It draws everyone's attention—Grantaire included—and their eyes meet every time. 

Enjolras excuses himself once he sees Grantaire leaving, ignoring the amused look in Courfeyrac's eyes. He catches up to Grantaire at the end of the block, where he's lighting a cigarette.

"Enjolras?" he raises an eyebrow, exhaling smoke into the night air. "Did you need something?"

"Let me walk you home."

Grantaire's expression goes shuttered and it's just like the day before. "You live in the opposite direction to me. You don't have to—"

"I want to," Enjolras says firmly. "I didn't get to spend any time with you at the meeting and—I missed that."

Grantaire laughs with disbelief. "Really, Enjolras?"

"It occurs to me that we haven't spent a lot of time with each other before… this, and I've learned over the past few days that this has been an oversight on my part. I'm not doing this for the sake of anything more than the fact that you are my friend. I'll let you smoke in peace, if that's what you want. I'll leave, if you ask me to."

Grantaire looks at Enjolras closely and sighs. "I'm sorry, I was too harsh on you yesterday, wasn't I? Yeah, we'll walk. That sounds good to me."

They're silent on the way to Grantaire's apartment, until he stubs his cigarette out and opens the door to the building, holding it open for Enjolras. "You know, I kind of missed having you over too. That's pretty stupid, right?"

"Not at all," Enjolras tells him, climbing the stairs after Grantaire. "I like this routine that we have going."

"You're messing with me," Grantaire laughs, and he sounds sharper than before. He unlocks his door, not looking at Enjolras.

"Try me," Enjolras replies, following Grantaire in and shutting the door behind him.

Grantaire stands there, waiting, and it's far too easy for Enjolras to step forward, encouraged by the way Grantaire reaches for him automatically.

He gets a hand behind Grantaire's head just in time to cushion it before it hits the wall. They kiss hard, Grantaire wrapping his arms around Enjolras' shoulders, keeping him close as one kiss blends into the next, until Grantaire pulls away, breathless.

"Sorry," he laughs quietly. He settles his hands on Enjolras' sides. "I'm really bad at this. I never really got much practice."

"Oh?" Enjolras asks, biting back the urge to say that as far as he's concerned, Grantaire is great at this.

"My parents nearly kicked me out when I told them I like guys," Grantaire murmurs. "I was never brave enough to have a boyfriend just in case that pushed them to actually do it."

"Ugh." Enjolras makes a face. "Mine keep insisting that this is a phase that I'll grow out of. I was twelve when I told them I was gay and they're still hoping I'll wake up straight someday."

"Parents," Grantaire snorts. "What the fuck do they know?"

"Exactly," Enjolras says quietly. "You're exactly right."

"One point to R," Grantaire grins.

"I'm still two points to one," Enjolras points out.

"I'll catch up," Grantaire murmurs, and his grip on Enjolras only tightens by a fraction, but it's enough.

Enjolras reaches out carefully, running his fingers through Grantaire's hair. Grantaire's breath hitches, but when Enjolras leans forward, Grantaire meets him halfway. They stand there, lips pressed against each other, until Grantaire's fingers go to Enjolras' hair in return, an urgent sound escaping his lips. Enjolras kisses him harder and this time, when Grantaire gasps into it, Enjolras sucks on his lower lip. He runs his tongue over it and Grantaire's moan of approval is all he needs before they kiss again, Enjolras licking into Grantaire's mouth.

He tastes of cigarette ash, of the wine he was drinking at the Musain, and Enjolras doesn't mind, because he's tasting it on Grantaire's tongue. They kiss until they're gasping into each other's mouth, until their fingers are tugging on each other's hair and Enjolras is desperately trying not to moan as he discovers just how much he enjoys it.

When they pull apart, their lips are wet, their faces are red, and Enjolras' voice is husky when he says, "We should go out."

Grantaire's eyes widen and Enjolras' mind, still scattered from the kiss, struggles to backpedal fast enough to keep Grantaire from panicking.

"I mean on a pretend date." The words come out rushed, and Grantaire's expression still hasn't changed. "To see if we can convince people who don't know us to believe that we're actually together."

"Oh." Grantaire's voice is deeper than normal too, and Enjolras tries not to think about the way it makes something coil, low and warm, in his belly. "Yeah. Where do you want to go?"

"We could go to a café on campus," Enjolras suggests. "They're always full of people. I'll meet you here tomorrow afternoon?"

"Sounds good." Grantaire is slow to let go of him. "See you tomorrow."

Before Enjolras can stop to wonder what he's doing, he presses another brief kiss to Grantaire's lips and turns to leave. "See you tomorrow."

«·»

Enjolras is not in the habit of lying to himself but he spends the entirety of the next day refusing to acknowledge why he feels so nervous. Courfeyrac gives him a curious look during their law lecture, but Enjolras refuses to explain.

He's incredibly relieved that Grantaire never shows up to Philosophy lectures because at least it means that he can distract himself by arguing with other people in the class. It's mid-afternoon by the time his classes are done and he kisses Grantaire hello on his doorstep, pulling back with a warm smile. "Ready to go?"

Grantaire grabs his red beanie from the couch and nods, letting Enjolras lead the way. There might be several cafés around their campus, but Enjolras has a very short list of places he will actually buy his coffee from. He'd spent his first week of his first year researching all the cafés, tracing them back to their franchises and suppliers. Some don't use fair trade coffee beans, while others are part of franchises that donate significant amounts of money to organisations that oppose Enjolras' views on equality. He'd vetted out the Musain in the exact same when when he'd been looking for a place to hold their meetings and it remains his favourite of all the cafés he's found. His second favourite is on the opposite side of campus to all of his classes but as far as he's concerned, it's worth the walk.

It's also on the opposite end of the campus to the entrance they use when walking from the residential area, but Grantaire doesn't complain about the walk, or the fact that they walk right past two other cafés on the way. In fact, Enjolras notices, Grantaire doesn't even look at the other two cafés, like he isn't even expecting to walk into them. Enjolras might be particular about where he buys his coffee from, but it's not really something he talks about. The knowing look that Grantaire gives him when they finally stop in front of Enjolras' café of choice says that he's figured it out anyway.

"You walk here every morning before class?" he asks, following Enjolras inside. "Damn, but you'd have to allow extra time to walk all the way here and all the way back before class starts. And you're the kind of person to gets to class early, too."

"It's worth it," Enjolras replies simply.

"Why don't you just drink coffee at home before class? You'd end up saving time and money."

"That's not the point," Enjolras sighs. "Besides, this tastes better than instant coffee."

"Then buy a coffee machine." Grantaire shrugs. "One of those ones that uses capsules. Saves time."

"Right, and tie myself down to some commercial giant who doesn't care about anything except or the amount of money they're raking in" Enjolras scowls. "No thank you."

"Ahh, so you think you can make a difference by going to fair trade hipster cafés?" Grantaire asks. He doesn't bother to lower his voice, even though they're standing in the line. He doesn't sound critical, though, only curious. Like he's trying to work out Enjolras' position.

"If you're going to ask me what one person can hope to achieve," Enjolras says to him, "then you clearly don't know me very well."

Grantaire laughs. "Of course I'm not. I'm just wondering why you haven't made this one of your causes, to bring up at meetings. I think there are about… three people who would know which cafés to go to if you asked them to get you a coffee. You usually make a much bigger deal out of things."

Enjolras tries to think of three people, but he can only come up with Courfeyrac and Combeferre. He shakes his head. "Compared to everything else we're tackling… it's just coffee."

"It's important to you," Grantaire says, like it's just that simple. Maybe it is.

The girl behind the counter clears her throat and gives them a patient smile. "Are you ready to order?"

Enjolras looks around, realising that they'd both grown distracted by their discussion and forgotten to move along with the line. There's nobody standing behind them either and Grantaire clears his throat self-consciously, looking to Enjolras, waiting for him to move first.

"Medium latte?" the barista asks with a smile, recognising Enjolras when he steps closer to the counter. She reaches for a takeaway cup and Enjolras shakes his head.

"Having it here, today."

The barista looks between Enjolras and Grantaire, and her smile grows wider.

"What?" Enjolras asks, not entirely sure why he feels so embarrassed.

"Nothing," she replies. When Enjolras stares, she shakes his head. "It's just that you're really cute together."

Enjolras turns to Grantaire this time, who has his head ducked to hide his blush. Turning back to the counter, Enjolras hands over a note. "Thanks. And a medium mocha, too."

Grantaire stares at him in surprise. "You know my coffee order."

"It's easy to remember," Enjolras replies with a shrug. He doesn't think it's possible for the barista to smile any wider, but she proves otherwise. 

"Go, sit down," she tells them. "I'll bring your drinks out."

"You didn't have to pay for me," Grantaire mutters as they sit at a small table by the window. He pulls his wallet out. "Here—"

"Grantaire." Enjolras takes hold of his wrist. "It's one coffee. You can pay for coffee next time."

"Next time," Grantaire repeats with a grin that he's trying to bite back. "Okay."

He puts his wallet back in his pocket and when he folds his arms on the table in front of him, Enjolras tentatively reaches out to touch his hand.

"This is a dating thing, right?" he asks, keeping his gaze fixed on their hands as Grantaire slowly unfolds his arms. It probably would have been easier to start with this, instead of the kissing, but Enjolras can't quite bring himself to regret that.

"Yeah," Grantaire says quietly, holding his hand up, palm facing Enjolras. In response, Enjolras lines their hands up. Grantaire's is bigger, his fingers longer. It's warm, and not as soft as Enjolras' hand. Enjolras takes hold of it and squeezes gently, finally lifting his gaze to Grantaire's face as they rest their joined hands on the table.

There's an intent look in Grantaire's eyes that Enjolras doesn't quite understand, no matter how hard he tries. It's frustrating, but Enjolras tries not to focus on it when he knows that he's not going to get an explanation.

The barista walks to their table shortly after with their drinks, smiling at them. Grantaire tries to pull his hand away, but Enjolras holds on even tighter.

"She's going to think that we're together," Grantaire whispers, as she walks away.

"Well, she already does," Enjolras replies, and that's something he's trying to to think too hard about, because he wasn't even trying to give off the impression that they were dating then. "Besides, that's kind of the point."

"Right," Grantaire says quietly.

Enjolras doesn't let go of Grantaire's hand for the entire time that they're sitting there and at some point, they end up interlocking their fingers as they talk. Sometimes, Grantaire unconsciously strokes the back of Enjolras' hand with his thumb and every time he does, Enjolras struggles to focus on what Grantaire is saying, and not the way his thumb feels.

They stay even after they're done with their coffee and when Grantaire finally checks the time, they discover that they've been sitting there for two hours.

"We should probably go," Grantaire says, letting go of Enjolras' hand, leaving it feeling cold.

"I'll walk you home," Enjolras replies, getting to his feet. He smiles when Grantaire doesn't argue.

He finds himself feeling glad that he'd chosen a café further away Grantaire's place because it means they have a little more time with each other. Along the way, Enjolras' hand finds Grantaire's again and it's strange that this already feels so familiar. When Grantaire strokes his thumb over the back of Enjolras hand this time, it's slower, more deliberate. Enjolras returns the gesture, and catches the way Grantaire grins.

"Well," Grantaire says, once they're in his building and standing in front of his door. "This is me."

"I had a good time," Enjolras tells him. "This was… a good pretend date."

Grantaire laughs at that. "Yeah. Yeah, it was."

This time, they both lean in to kiss each other in unison. Grantaire's back hits the door and Enjolras pulls his beanie off, holding it in one hand so that he can run the fingers of the other through Grantaire's curls. Their tongues slide against each other and they moan into the kiss. Enjolras is vaguely aware that this is a deeper kiss than they should be having on this side of Grantaire's door. Part of him wants to suggest that they go inside, while another part insists that he stop this immediately, that he's getting himself in over his head.

"I should—" he says breathlessly, pulling away. He points vaguely in the direction of the stairs while a primal voice at the back of his mind says that this is the opposite of what he wants to do. 

"Yeah." Grantaire's voice is wrecked and Enjolras feels a sharp jolt of pleasure knowing that it was his doing. Grantaire slowly lets go of him. "Okay."

Enjolras walks home before he can stop and second-guess himself. He doesn't realise he's still holding onto Grantaire's beanie until he shuts the door behind him.

"Fuck," he says to his empty apartment. 

His reflection, on the dark screen of his television, stares at him like he's an idiot.

«·»

"What are you doing?" Courfeyrac asks, staring at Enjolras with wide eyes. "Do you even have any idea?"

"I'm helping Grantaire," Enjolras replies stubbornly. "That's the whole point of this, isn't it?"

"Is that all you're doing?" Combeferre asks gently.

They're both at Enjolras' house for what Courfeyrac has called a Crisis Meeting. They'd arrived roughly fifteen minutes after Enjolras got home from Grantaire's place and texted them both with, _So, I just went on a pretend date_.

"That's all," Enjolras replies, and only feels a little bad for lying to his best friends. He has no idea how to explain the fact that he's actually started caring for Grantaire. He doesn't even know what he wants to do with this fact, but he has a feeling that ignoring it isn't really going to help.

Combeferre looks at Courfeyrac, communicating silently, and finally says, "This is your fault."

"How is it _my_ fault?" Courfeyrac cries.

"You know the reason why," Combeferre replies, frowning.

"I don't follow," Enjolras speaks up, unsure about whether he wants to. He knows exactly why he's freaking out, but he has a feeling that Courfeyrac and Combeferre have a different reason entirely and that's a worrying thought.

"The important thing here," Combeferre says, "is that you don't end up misleading Grantaire in any way. Have you done anything that could cause him to end up at the wrong conclusion?"

Enjolras tries very hard not to say that it wouldn't necessarily be _wrong_ , and whatever expression he's making causes Courfeyrac to squeak.

"Details!"

" _Courfeyrac_ ," Combeferre scolds. He turns to Enjolras. "Really?"

"I'm not talking about it," Enjolras mutters.

"Can we guess?" Courfeyrac asks. "Just say yes or no."

Combeferre sighs. "No, we're not doing that."

Enjolras rubs a hand over his face and sighs heavily, wondering why he even bothered to text them. He doesn't think he's ready to talk to them about how he really feels and there's only so much that he can panic at them without being specific about _why_.

"Look," he says, deciding that his best option right now is to get his mind off things entirely. "I'm done talking about this but while you're here, I was thinking that we could start up a new project."

"Ooh, you've got a new cause to fight for?" Courfeyrac asks eagerly.

"It's old. I just never thought to give much time to it before. The whole coffee thing. You remember how we spoke about it in first year?"

Combeferre nods. "I remember. That was one of the first issues you did anything about, even if it was on a small scale, and only really extended to the three of us."

"I should still have my research on my laptop. If I read over it again and update wherever necessary…"

"You went to a café with Grantaire," Courfeyrac says with a bright look in his eye. "Ooh, which one?"

"Courfeyrac—" Combeferre begins, but Enjolras simply sighs.

"Café Vert. I'm telling you so you won't waste time trying to figure it out. Can we drop it now?" 

Courfeyrac's expression say that he's not even close to dropping it, but he pays attention for the next hour as Enjolras opens his laptop up and they start working out what they can do.

Then Enjolras' text tone goes off, three times. He reaches for his phone before Courfeyrac can, and they're all from Grantaire.

_Hey are you free day after tomorrow? There's this thing. We could go in the afternoon, maybe?_

_Sorry for being vague, it's kind of a surprise._

_I mean. Not specifically a surprise for you. Just. Fuck, this is the third text I've sent you in a row. Sorry I'm such a clingy pretend boyfriend._

Enjolras is aware that he's smiling at his phone, but he doesn't realise just how much until Combeferre quietly clears his throat.

"Whoa." Courfeyrac sounds amazed. "I don't think I've ever seen you smile that much outside of a successful protest. Are you smiling because of Grantaire?"

He grabs Enjolras' phone and reads the messages, his eyes going wide. "Oh my god, Grantaire is really—"

"Give that back," Enjolras mutters, snatching his phone out of Courfeyrac's hands. He isn't in the mood to hear Courfeyrac teasing Grantaire, and he knows that the longer he takes to reply, the more Grantaire will be panicking.

He quickly types out a message: _I'll keep myself free. You can tell me more when I see you tomorrow_.

He has the foresight to switch his phone to silent before Grantaire replies, his message simply: _:)))))_

Enjolras' smile gives him away, but Courfeyrac doesn't reach for his phone this time.

"Enjolras, " he says, sounding serious this time. "It hasn't even been two hours since you came back from your pretend date, and Grantaire's asking you to go out with him again."

Combeferre looks at him with a frown, but doesn't say anything. Enjolras is glad for it. He has no idea how to explain himself and he's trying not to think about what Grantaire asking him to go out again so soon could possibly mean.

"So," Combeferre says after a pause. "This café project you want to begin."

"Yes," Courfeyrac chimes in, turning to Enjolras' laptop again.

Enjolras smiles, extremely grateful for his best friends.

«·»

When they kiss each other in greeting two days after, Grantaire is buzzing with nervous excitement. He's given Enjolras no clues as to what they're actually doing but judging by the way he can't stop grinning, it's definitely something important to him. That's all the information Enjolras needs.

He slides his hand into Grantaire's, allowing him to take the lead. Grantaire's smile is open and excited in a way that he rarely lets other people see. Enjolras can see the uncertainty in his eyes but it's still much better than the sarcasm and cynicism he usually sees in its place. This smile is infectious, and it has Enjolras reminding himself that he has absolutely no excuse to pull Grantaire aside and kiss him, as much as he wants to.

"You're being very patient with me," Grantaire comments, grinning at Enjolras. "You haven't even asked me where we're going yet."

"I'll find out soon enough," Enjolras replies. "Right now, I'm just happy to follow you."

The look Grantaire gives him makes a sudden rush of hope surge through Enjolras before he manages to push it down and ignore it.

"We're almost there," Grantaire murmurs, tugging on Enjolras' hand. They're just on the edge of campus, and Grantaire leads the way into a building that Enjolras has never been in before.

"An exhibition?" Enjolras asks, reading the sign on the way in. "Grantaire—you got your paintings into an exhibition?"

"Not so loud," Grantaire mutters, tightening his grip on Enjolras' hand. "Most of the people here don't know me. My professor suggested I try submitting a few paintings—most of these are by post-grads. Don't really want anyone to know who I am until I've had the time to digest all the criticism and get over it."

"Criticism?" Enjolras asks disbelievingly. He can see the four paintings done by Grantaire, all signed with an _R_ at the bottom right corner of the canvas. "Grantaire, they're beautiful."

"To the untrained eye," Grantaire replies. 

"Stop that, and take credit where it's deserved." 

Enjolras looks at the first painting, of the Seine and the city around it, all shrouded in mist with the pinpricks of the street lamps dotted along the edge of the river.

The next is of a dog, somewhere on the Parisian streets, cobblestones underfoot and a bone held between its jaws. It's wiry, the way so many of the strays are, the hint of ribs beneath its short fur. The third picture is yet again in a different style, a still-life this time. It's a painting of the candles they use at the Musain sometimes. Ever since Courfeyrac found the dimmer on the lights and Jehan brought a box of candles to a meeting, they've developed a habit of lighting two or three of them on one of the smaller tables towards the back of the room. Now that Enjolras thinks about it, he realises that it's the table where Grantaire always sits.

His favourite, however, is the fourth painting. It, too, shows a part of the Musain. In the foreground is Grantaire's usual table, covered with splashes of wax on the table that they are careful to avoid in reality, there are three bottles made of dark green glass, unlabelled and empty, the way Grantaire always leaves his own bottles. That's not what catches Enjolras' eye. Behind the bottles, in the blurry background, Grantaire has painted nine figures, made distinct by splashes of colour. Enjolras sees himself, blond hair and his favourite red jacket, Courfeyrac and Combeferre on either side of him in different shades of blue. Jehan with flowers through his hair, Bahorel, Bossuet and Joly closest to the table, Feuilly and Marius in between.

"Grantaire…"

"Too much sentiment, not enough of a fuck given about colour theory," Grantaire says, as dismissively as he criticises Enjolras' more optimistic ideas. He must see the frown on Enjolras' face because he sighs, shoulders slumping. "Fuck what they think, though. I like it."

"And it was accepted into the exhibit," Enjolras points out. "You haven't told the others, have you? I think they'd like to come and see your paintings. Especially this one."

Grantaire hums noncommittally and looks around. "Do you want to look at the other paintings while we're here?"

Enjolras does, letting Grantaire lead him around by the hand. They walk a circuit of the room and there aren't very many people in the gallery, but most of them are gathered at one section of the room, looking at the paintings there.

"What's over on that end?"

Grantaire tightens his grip on Enjolras' hand. "Um. A selection of paintings, chosen by the curators."

"A showcase?"

"Kind of." Grantaire resists when Enjolras tries to pull him along in that direction. "I'd rather not look at them right now. Too daunting, you know, looking at paintings that are much better than mine."

Enjolras wants to look at the paintings, just so he can tell Grantaire exactly why his are better. The look in Grantaire's eyes says he genuinely doesn't want to go over to the paintings, and so Enjolras doesn't push. 

"We can go, if you want," Enjolras says, already planning to come back during a break tomorrow. "I don't mind."

Grantaire smiles and they're almost out of the door when someone calls, "Hey, Grantaire!"

"Fuck." Grantaire freezes for a moment. He's about to keep walking without looking back, but his pause gives the other guy enough time to catch up to him. "Holy shit, Grantaire, is this him? Is he your boyfriend? That explains so much—"

"Uh." Enjolras frowns, confused by the sudden attention. "Excuse me?"

"He showed you the painting, right?" the guy asks Enjolras, not even stopping to introduce himself. "It's the best one here, ask anyone. Totally makes sense, considering the amount of love and attention—"

"We were just leaving," Grantaire interrupts, but when he tries to walk away, it's Enjolras' turn to resist. "Enjolras—"

"Which painting?" Enjolras asks, quiet and firm, and he thinks he sees the other guy slowly backing away in his periphery, but his attention is entirely focused on Grantaire.

"Enjolras, don't do this," Grantaire begs. He loosens his grip on Enjolras' hand. Enjolras doesn't let him go.

"Grantaire," Enjolras says patiently, in the tone he usually reserves for when Grantaire is drunk. 

With a heavy sigh, Grantaire looks away. "I really hate you sometimes, you know."

Enjolras doesn't reply, pretending the words don't hurt. This time, when Grantaire lets go of Enjolras' hand, it's so he can lead the way back into the room, walking straight to the small group of paintings at the end. Enjolras follows, not sure what he's looking for until he sees it.

He stares at the painting, and his own eyes look back at him, narrowed and bright with fury, an accusatory finger pointed forward, mouth open mid-argument. It's pure anger and it should be ugly but the way Grantaire has painted him makes it look anything _but_ ugly. Enjolras is self-aware and he knows that his appearance is an asset, just the same as he knows that his talent for public speaking is an asset. He still feels uncomfortable thinking of himself as _beautiful_ , but it's the only word that comes to mind when he looks at Grantaire's painting.

"I'm sorry," Grantaire says quietly. "I should have asked permission before I submitted it, but I was kind of drunk and didn't even know what to say and—"

"Grantaire," Enjolras interrupts. He doesn't know what else to say. He turns to Grantaire, who is still studiously avoiding his gaze. 

"Can we go now?" Grantaire asks, and doesn't wait for an answer. He turns and leaves, and Enjolras follows.

The walk to Grantaire's apartment is silent. Grantaire has his hands in his pockets and keeps his eyes fixed head of him. He doesn't tell Enjolras to leave, but he doesn't say anything else either.

When they're at Grantaire's apartment, he unlocks his door and gives Enjolras a questioning look. With a quiet sigh, Enjolras follows him inside and shuts the door behind him.

"If you waited until we're alone to yell at me—"

"For fuck's sake, Grantaire," Enjolras mutters and steps forward, crowding into his space and kissing him hard. Grantaire gasps against Enjolras' mouth, and Enjolras only kisses him harder. "Do I look like I'm upset about the painting?"

He keeps his hands on Grantaire's shoulders, watching him. Grantaire swallows hard. "…No."

" _No_ ," Enjolras repeats. "Not even in the slightest, Grantaire. It's beautiful."

Grantaire makes a quiet, broken sound and when Enjolras kisses him again, he kisses back.

Enjolras licks across Grantaire's lips, his teeth, the roof of his mouth. There's no lingering aftertaste of wine or cigarettes this time and Enjolras is intent on memorising the way Grantaire's mouth tastes, memorising every little gasp.

They rest their foreheads against each other when they pull apart, hands finding each other once again. Enjolras strokes his thumb over Grantaire's pulse and smiles to himself. He kisses his way across Grantaire's jaw and to his ear. "Grantaire, I—"

"Enjolras," Grantaire cuts him off, eyes squeezed tightly shut. "If you're going to say what I think you're going to say… I don't actually think I can deal with it right now, okay?"

With a quiet sigh, Enjolras pulls away. Grantaire's eyes are open now and he watches Enjolras warily, like a trapped animal. Enjolras takes a step back. "Okay."

"I'll see you… maybe not tomorrow. The day after?"

Enjolras nods reluctantly. "Yeah. See you then."

«·»

Enjolras goes to class the next day wearing Grantaire's red beanie. Courfeyrac gives him a questioning look when they meet in front of their lecture theatre, but doesn't say anything about it.

In fact, it's not until their lunch break that Courfeyrac stares at Enjolras and asks, "Are you wearing R's beanie?"

Enjolras shrugs. "I was cold. It was the first thing I could find. That's all."

"That's all," Courfeyrac repeats, not sounding the least bit convinced. "Uh huh. Why do you even have his beanie in the first place?"

"It was an accident," Enjolras replies. "I was holding onto it, and I forgot to give it back."

"Just like you're forgetting to give it back right now?"

Enjolras pulls the beanie off and looks at it. "He doesn't want to see me."

"Whoa." Courfeyrac blinks. "Wait. Did you… pretend break up? I mean—you know what I mean."

"Somehow, I do." Enjolras runs a hand through his hair. "No, it's not like that. It's just that he wanted a short break from seeing each other. We've been seeing each other every day since this whole thing started."

"Every day?" Courfeyrac blinks. "Do you know who else see each other every single day? Joly and Bossuet. And they're actually together. And live in the same apartment."

Enjolras shrugs. "Well then I guess that's why Grantaire wants a break from me. He's probably had enough of me."

Courfeyrac mutters something under his breath that sounds like _not fucking likely_ , and squeezes Enjolras' shoulder. "Look, you'll figure it out. Both of you. Just give it a while."

Enjolras can't believe just how quickly he's grown used to spending his time with Grantaire. He's restless for the entire afternoon, and tries to distract himself with more research for their social justice group. The protest they're helping the feminist society with is too far away to start preparing for now and Enjolras is determined to stick to providing support, instead of taking over the planning. It's not his cause and he's only there to lend his voice. He knows better than to forget that.

He turns to the research he's doing on the campus cafés instead, but that only serves to remind him of Grantaire. His apartment feels too small and too quiet, but Enjolras doesn't know where to go. He doesn't want to go to the usual café without Grantaire, and while he wants to go back to the gallery, he thinks better of it, just in case he runs into Grantaire there and only makes things worse.

He finally settles for the library, and works on absolutely everything he can in the hopes of distracting himself. He reads ahead in his textbooks, gets started on all the assignments he can, and Grantaire remains at the back of his mind through all of it.

His phone buzzes with a message late in the evening and Enjolras reaches for it, not even realising that he's hoping it's Grantaire until he sees that it's Combeferre instead, and feels incredibly disappointed. Combeferre is checking if Enjolras has eaten dinner, pointing out the late hour. Enjolras hasn't, and he puts his books away and leaves the library, picking up some food on the way home. He's still wearing Grantaire's beanie and it's tempting to throw it across the room when he's taking it off, but it's not his to throw. He drops it onto the couch with a frustrated growl and eats, so he can go to bed.

The next day, Grantaire texts Enjolras in the middle of a tutorial. Enjolras cannot check his phone until it's over, but he spends the remaining half hour wondering if the buzz from his back pocket was real or imagined, if it's from Grantaire, or someone else.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket as soon as they're dismissed by their tutor and smiles when he sees that it _is_ from Grantaire.

_Hey. Café when you're done with class?_

Enjolras replies with, _Yes. I finish at four._

Grantaire takes another ten minutes to reply with, _Meet you there_. Enjolras tries not to grin his entire way through his next two lectures. He ignores the knowing looks that Courfeyrac keeps giving him.

He doesn't realise that he's still wearing Grantaire's beanie until they meet in front of the café. Grantaire raises an eyebrow and gives the beanie a pointed look. 

"I was wondering where that went."

"I'm sorry, I took it without realising. You can have it back—"

"It's okay," Grantaire murmurs, a small smile tugging at his lips. "It suits you. Matches your jacket."

Enjolras grins at that. They're standing right in front of the café windows, so he resists the urge to kiss Grantaire and offers a hand instead. "Shall we head inside?"

Grantaire takes Enjolras' hand and it's strange that something so simple can make him so happy. They walk inside, order their drinks and sit down, watching each other.

"Is it weird that I missed you?" Enjolras asks.

"Um." Grantaire presses his lips into a thin line. "Yes."

He tightens his grip on Enjolras' hand, looking down at the table. "I kind of missed you too, though."

They're quieter this time as they sit and sip at their coffee. Grantaire seems distracted by his own thoughts and Enjolras doesn't want to interrupt. They walk to Grantaire's apartment and he leaves the door open for Enjolras, as usual. They sit in Grantaire's lounge room, doing their work in each other's company. Grantaire's sketching in his book, his hand moving so quickly over the page that after a while, Enjolras stops working just so he can watch.

"What are you drawing?" he asks, shuffling closer for a better look. "Lions? And why does that one have a scar?"

Grantaire abruptly stops drawing and turns around to stare at Enjolras. "What."

Enjolras frowns. "What?"

"Are you trying to tell me that you've never seen Lion King?"

"Oh." Enjolras blinks. "No. I haven't."

" _What_ ," Grantaire says again, even louder this time. "Are you serious? You haven't… oh my god, I can't believe I'm pretending to date a guy who hasn't seen _Lion King_."

Enjolras' frown deepens. "I didn't realise it was so important—"

"It's only _the most important thing ever_. Fuck. Hold up, I have the DVD somewhere, let me educate you."

"Right now?" Enjolras asks, raising his eyebrows. He takes hold of Grantaire's hand and pulls him back to sit on the couch. "Look, it's the weekend tomorrow and I'm only working nine to twelve. We'll have lunch and watch the movie? You can bring the DVD over to my place."

"Your place?" Grantaire asks, his eyes going wide. "You never invite people to your place. I mean, except for Courfeyrac and Combeferre."

Even with the three of them, Enjolras' apartment isn't big enough for all of them to fit comfortably.

"Well I'm inviting you, aren't I?"

Grantaire's smile is small, shy, but it grows wider. "Yeah. You are. What do you want to do for lunch before? There's a bakery that opened just off campus, on the way to the train station."

"I'm happy to go wherever you'd like," Enjolras tells him. "I'll meet you here at half past twelve and you can lead the way. Then back to my place for the movie. How does that sound?"

"Good. Yeah. We can do that." 

Enjolras likes it when Grantaire smiles like this, without a trace of sarcasm. He leans over, pressing a light kiss to the corner of Grantaire's mouth. Grantaire turns his head into it, kissing Enjolras' lips in return. Enjolras has missed this; he's missed kissing Grantaire but he keeps the thought at the very back of his mind, knowing better than to say it aloud. 

Grantaire curls his fingers at the nape of Enjolras' neck and they kiss harder, their work lying abandoned. Enjolras presses kisses along Grantaire's jaw and down his neck, enjoying the breathy sighs that this draws from Grantaire. They need to talk about this, they need to figure out what they're doing because whatever it is, Enjolras has a feeling that it's entirely different to what they started off with.

Except Enjolras knows what will happen when they try to talk about it. He can visualise the way Grantaire's expression will close up, the way he'll grow stubborn and quiet to hide the fact that he's terrified. 

Grantaire pulls him back up to kiss him properly, and this is much easier to deal with. This way, he can kiss with as much honesty as he can, and hope that Grantaire will understand. They need to talk, but that can wait.

«·»

When Enjolras thinks of his apartment as being tiny, it's usually just an abstract concept. It's certainly big enough for him when he's on his own and while it might be crowded when Courfeyrac and Combeferre are over, they usually find a way to make it work.

It's a different matter when he and Grantaire are sitting on his couch, which is barely big enough to fit both of them to sit without being pressed together.

"How does anyone even fit here?" Grantaire asks, waiting for the DVD menu to come up on Enjolras' television.

"Usually, no one really _has_ to," Enjolras replies and pulls Grantaire closer once he presses play. "Here. Better?"

Grantaire hesitates for a moment, before relaxing against Enjolras' shoulder. "Yeah, actually."

The movie is enjoyable—made even more so by the fact that Grantaire sings every song under his breath. He does different voices for every character and by the end of _Be Prepared_ , Enjolras is no longer even bothering to pretend that he isn't completely smitten.

Then Mufasa dies, and Enjolras isn't thinking about Grantaire any more because he's trying incredibly hard not to cry.

"Are you _crying_?" Grantaire asks, his voice shaky.

"Shut up. _You're_ crying."

Grantaire laughs, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand. "Yeah. It gets me every time."

Grantaire's words only make matters worse. Now that Enjolras isn't trying to hold it back, it upsets him even more. He covers his face with a hand, and hears Grantaire pausing the movie.

"Are you okay?" Grantaire asks quietly, his hands on either side of Enjolras' face.

" _No_. Why would you make me watch this. You're the worst." Enjolras laughs at himself, shaking his head. "This is ridiculous."

"God, Enjolras." Grantaire touches their foreheads together. "I really fucking like you."

"Likewise," Enjolras murmurs, wiping his cheeks and kissing Grantaire hard. It's not a particularly deep kiss, but their lips linger against each other for a long moment.

"Want to keep watching?" Grantaire asks, and Enjolras nods.

They end up cuddling as they watch the rest of the movie, half-sitting, half-lying on the couch with Grantaire resting his head on Enjolras' shoulder. Their fingers are entwined and Grantaire's breath is warm against Enjolras' neck as he sings along with the rest of the songs. Enjolras never wants to watch movies in any way but this, ever again. 

"Did you like it?" Grantaire asks, once the movie is over, not lifting his head from Enjolras' shoulder.

Enjolras turns his head, shuffling slightly so that he can press a kiss to Grantaire's temple. "I did. Thank you for making me watch it."

Grantaire grins at that, and Enjolras brings his free hand up to trace Grantaire's lower lip with his thumb.

"This has been the best…" he trails off, not wanting to call it a pretend date, but unsure how Grantaire will respond otherwise. Grantaire seems to understand anyway, because he tilts his face up towards Enjolras', smiling.

"Yeah. Agreed." Grantaire licks his lips. "…Can I kiss you?"

Enjolras laughs quietly. "Do you need to ask?"

Grantaire doesn't answer. Enjolras pulls him close, until their noses are brushing against each other.

"Grantaire, you do _not_ need to ask. You have my full permission to kiss me whenever you'd like, however you'd like. Okay?"

Grantaire bites his lower lip instead of replying, until Enjolras squeezes his hand. 

"Yeah," he says in small voice. "Okay."

Enjolras wants to pull Grantaire into a kiss but he makes himself wait. He's been the one initiating their kisses since the beginning and h's only just beginning to realise that it's because Grantaire never thought that _he_ could make the first move.

The first touch of Grantaire's lips to his is tentative, like their very first kiss. Enjolras waits and Grantaire kisses him again. He smiles when Enjolras kisses back.

Enjolras wants to memorise the curve of Grantaire's smile against his lips. He wants to make Grantaire smile like this more often, until it's no longer something rare and unusual, and he wants to treasure every single one of his smiles anyway. He wants Grantaire, plain and simple, and now that he's admitted it to himself, the full force of his emotions crashes over him like a wave. He holds onto Grantaire, who kisses him again and again, stealing Enjolras' breath each time.

"Grantaire," he gasps into a kiss, settling onto his back properly. He pulls Grantaire to lie on top of him, kissing down his neck. He bites Grantaire's neck on a whim, keeping the pressure of his teeth light.

" _Fuck_ ," Grantaire moans, low and loud. 

Enjolras tries to sit up properly, to bite Grantaire even harder this time, but shifting against Grantaire brings their hips together. They're both hard against each other and Grantaire moans brokenly this time. His hands are in Enjolras' hair, tugging at it. Enjolras' hips jerk against Grantaire's, and they both gasp.

"Fuck, Enjolras." Grantaire's fingers tighten their grip as he grinds down against him.

They kiss, panting into each other's mouths. Grantaire makes a low sound at the back of his throat and then suddenly, he's pulling away from Enjolras, panicked. "Wait, no. Stop."

Enjolras immediately goes still, letting go of Grantaire. "What's wrong?"

"This…" Grantaire gets up off the couch and runs a hand through his hair. "All of this. Fuck. There's only so much I can ask you to do for my sake and this—this is way beyond that. I can't do this."

"What are you talking about?" Enjolras asks, frowning. He sits up, watching Grantaire pace.

"You don't want this, Enjolras," Grantaire tells him with a hollow laugh. "You don't want me. You just think you do and I can't keep making you do this—"

"You're not _making_ me do anything." Enjolras stands, stepping into Grantaire's path to stop his pacing. "Grantaire, I haven't done a single thing against my will. I'll thank you to give me a little more credit for my own actions."

Grantaire shakes his head and looks away. "You've only tricked yourself into thinking that. Come on, do you really expect me to believe that you _mean_ any of this? We both know better."

"Oh, by all means," Enjolras snaps. "Go ahead and presume you understand my feelings better than I do."

There's a look in Grantaire's eyes that Enjolras recognises from every single time they argue. It means that Grantaire is being frustratingly stubborn. That Enjolras needs to tread lightly, or this will all go wrong—that things are likely to go wrong regardless.

" _I like you_ , Grantaire."

Grantaire snorts at that. "Well, don't you just have the shittiest taste in the world?"

Enjolras' mouth twists in anger and he takes a step closer to Grantaire. He's well aware of just how intimidating he can be when he wants to and he uses it to full effect right now, watching Grantaire's eyes go wide as he's caught between wanting to take a step back and being too stubborn to let himself do that.

"Don't you dare," Enjolras says, his voice quiet and cold. "Don't you _dare_ think that you can dismiss everything so simply, just because you're afraid—"

"Afraid that you'll wake up one day and realise that no, you didn't actually mean a single thing and you really were mistaken all along?" Grantaire asks evenly. "Yeah, I'm not taking that chance. I'm just—not important, okay? I don't matter, and none of this matters."

"Damn it, Grantaire, what do you want me to say?" Enjolras demands, grabbing the front of Grantaire's shirt. He's trying as hard as he possibly can to stay calm. As usual, Grantaire is making it near-impossible.

"You could tell me I'm right," Grantaire suggests with a wry grin.

Enjolras sighs, letting go of Grantaire and taking a step back. "Get out."

Grantaire blinks. "What?"

"Get out, Grantaire," Enjolras repeats, the anger bleeding out of him, leaving him exhausted.

Grantaire doesn't ask twice, and he doesn't look back as he walks out of the door.

"Fuck," Enjolras says to his empty apartment, and resists the urge to throw the remote at his television as it cheerfully continues playing the Lion King menu on loop. " _Fuck_."

«·»

The following day is incredibly unpleasant. It's the weekend, so Enjolras doesn't even have class to keep himself distracted. He just replays their argument in his head over and over, wanting to text Grantaire but also feeling reluctant to do so, in case it only makes everything worse.

He finally caves around midday, sending Grantaire a text that reads, _Can we talk?_

Grantaire doesn't reply and after an entire hour of checking his phone, Enjolras gives up and texts Courfeyrac and Combeferre. _Crisis meeting? I think I fucked up. ___

__Courfeyrac replies that they're coming, almost immediately. It makes Enjolras wonder if they were just waiting for him to say something, and how much they know._ _

__"Ran into Joly and Bossuet this morning," Courfeyrac explains, when he gets to Enjolras' place. Combeferre follows him inside with a cardboard carry tray with coffee for them. "They said R was pretty upset last night, and pretty determined to drink himself unconscious. Bahorel took him out to a bar and kept an eye on him. Joly said Bahorel's probably still with him at the moment. What happened?"_ _

__Enjolras rubs a hand over his face and sighs heavily. "We… I don't know. I thought we were getting somewhere yesterday. He was here and we—we ended up arguing. He just refused to believe that I actually care for him, and—"_ _

__"Whoa, wait," Courfeyrac interrupts. "Say that again?"_ _

__"You heard him the first time," Combeferre tells him. "Besides, it's nothing that we didn't already know."_ _

__"What?" Enjolras asks, raising an eyebrow._ _

__Combeferre gives him an unimpressed look. "Come on, Enjolras. We aren't as oblivious as you and Grantaire seem to be."_ _

__Enjolras sighs, knowing that he can't even argue with that._ _

__"So the important thing now," Combeferre says, sipping his coffee, "is what you're going to do now. You both care for each other—even if Grantaire is having trouble believing that you return his feelings—so what's next?"_ _

__"I already asked him if we could talk. He hasn't replied, but considering what you've told me, that could just be because he's sleeping off a hang over. I don't really think that there's anything left for me to do but wait."_ _

__Courfeyrac hums in agreement. "That's what Bossuet suggested, too. Give him as much space as he needs and let him sort his thoughts. This is kind of a big deal. For both of you."_ _

__"Really," Enjolras says dryly._ _

__Combeferre place a hand on Enjolras' shoulder. "No need to let you frustration out on Courfeyrac."_ _

__"Right." Enjolras deflates. "Sorry."_ _

__They both stay for hours, keeping Enjolras distracted. Grantaire doesn't text back, and Enjolras does his best to pretend that it doesn't bother him, telling himself that he doesn't miss Grantaire already. It doesn't really work, but neither of his friends call him out on the fact that he gets distracted by his own thoughts every now and then._ _

__Enjolras finds himself distracted through class the next day. He's sent Grantaire another text, starting off with an apology and then repeating his request to talk properly but just like the first, it's gone unanswered._ _

__There's little else he can do but wait, as much as that bothers him. There's a meeting in the afternoon that he needs to prepare for so he occupies himself with that, printing out information sheets with all he research he's compiled about the on-campus cafés, summarised to cover the main points so that the others can follow as he talks about their new project. He prints more than are strictly necessary, but they'll always come in handy later, when they share this information with the student body._ _

__The thought makes him look at the information sheets with a critical eye, knowing that they don't look anywhere near as interesting as they should, if he wants to capture the attention of his fellow students._ _

__Grantaire could probably fix that, and Enjolras isn't even surprised at how easy it is for his mind to relate everything back to him any more. It's all he's been doing for the past two days and the more he tries not to, the more difficult it is to stop._ _

__He gets to the Musain early, as he always does before meetings, and begins setting up. He places an information sheet at each seat his friends usually take and if he lingers by Grantaire's seat, nobody else is around to notice. He stacks the extra sheets in the middle of the main table, and goes into the store room to bring out their box of candles._ _

__When he walks back into the main area that they use for their meetings, Grantaire is there. He's standing at the main table, reading one of the information sheets. He turns around when he hears Enjolras, freezing up._ _

__Enjolras clears his throat. "Grantaire."_ _

__Grantaire holds up the sheet of paper in his hand. "So you're looking into the café thing after all."_ _

__"It's important to me," Enjolras replies quietly. There's no one else in the room, so he looks Grantaire in the eye and adds, "Every time I think about this, I think about you. Every second I spend doing research. Every single information sheet I print out."_ _

__"You're telling me…" Grantaire licks his lips. "You're telling me that you care about me as much as you care about your causes?"_ _

__"You're the one who keeps saying I care about them more than anything else." Enjolras laughs quietly, shaking his head. "So if it will help you understand, then… yes, Grantaire."_ _

__"I'm… important." Grantaire frowns, sounding so unsure of himself that Enjolras wants to repeat it until it sticks._ _

__" _Yes_ , Grantaire. You're important and I care about you and I want— _I want you_ , and maybe that's been the problem all along. This stopped being fake a while ago—maybe since that first date when I couldn't stop holding your hand. Maybe before that, when I couldn't even go one day without spending time with you. The point is, I want this, and I want you to understand that. And… if this is something you don't want, then—"_ _

__"Don't even _think_ that," Grantaire interrupts, putting the piece of paper down and taking Enjolras' face in both hands. "Fuck. Bahorel called us oblivious idiots and I'm pretty sure he's onto something, there."_ _

__Enjolras laughs at that. "Sounds like it."_ _

__"I'm going to kiss you now," Grantaire murmurs, and they're both smiling when their lips touch._ _

__They wrap their arms around each other as they kiss and they still haven't pulled apart by the time the others arrive._ _

__"Good news: I don't have to knock anyone's heads together," Bahorel says, announcing his presence. He's grinning when they turn to him._ _

__Most of the others are there too, standing at the top of the stairs. Grantaire lets go of Enjolras so he can move away, but Enjolras holds on, keeping him close for a moment longer. Grantaire's smile is worth the others' smirks and raised eyebrows._ _

__"Okay." He turns to the rest of the room. "Let's get this meeting started, shall we?"_ _

__Grantaire takes his usual seat towards the back and Enjolras can't help glancing in his direction throughout the meeting, as much as he tries not to get distracted. He still manages to get through all the points he wants to talk about and Combeferre takes over towards the end, wrapping the meeting up. There's only so much they can do when this meeting is mainly about sharing the information that Enjolras has found. The meeting ends a little earlier than usual and as everyone breaks off into small groups to talk, Combeferre nudges Enjolras._ _

__"What are you waiting for? Go."_ _

__Enjolras nods, looking at Grantaire, who gets up with a small smile and starts walking to the stairs. Enjolras doesn't hesitate to follow and by the time they're out of the Musain, they're holding each other's hands and smiling so much that Enjolras doesn't think they'll ever stop._ _

____

«·»

They go to Enjolras' apartment because it's closer and as soon as they shut the door behind them, they turn to each other. Enjolras doesn't waste a second, kissing Grantaire and walking him towards the couch.

Grantaire collapses back onto it and Enjolras looks down at him, at the red beanie still sitting on the backrest of the couch from where he'd put it after last wearing it, at the Lion King DVD sitting on his table. Grantaire's become a part of his life without either of them even noticing and now, Enjolras doesn't want it any other way.

He leans over Grantaire, with one knee on the couch, and kisses him again. He rests his hand on the nape of Grantaire's neck and sucks on his lower lip, nibbles on it, until Grantaire moans and pulls him down. Grantaire wraps his leg around Enjolras, rocking his hips. They sigh into each other's mouths and Enjolras likes this version of Grantaire, who knows exactly what he wants.

"Bite me again?" Grantaire asks quietly, and Enjolras is only too happy to comply, sinking his teeth into Grantaire's neck, hard enough to earn him a cry halfway between pleasure and pain.

"Again," Grantaire gasps, as Enjolras licks over the teeth marks he's left behind. He obliges, kissing, biting, sucking, _marking_ him and judging by the blissful look on Grantaire's face, he likes it just as much as Enjolras does.

With a light kiss to Grantaire's lips, Enjolras kisses down his neck, to his collarbone, hands already pulling Grantaire's shirt up to kiss further. Grantaire lifts his arms obediently so his shirt can be taken off and Enjolras rewards him by sucking on his collarbone this time.

"Fuck, Enjolras."

"The things I want to do to you," Enjolras murmurs, his voice low. He shuts his eyes, replaying every fantasy he's come up with over the past week, his mind still reeling at the fact that he can actually make them reality now.

"Tell me," Grantaire hums, pressing a hand to his clothed erection until Enjolras pulls it away and replaces it with his own, stroking slowly. "Fuck, yeah. Tell me what you think of doing to me."

Enjolras' cheeks burn and instead of replying, he gets onto his knees in front of the couch, taking hold of Grantaire's hips and pulling him to sit up so they're facing each other.

"Enjolras—?" Grantaire cuts himself off with a gasp as Enjolras kisses down his chest, undoing Grantaire's pants. 

He's never done this before and it should terrify him, but all Enjolras can think of is wanting to make Grantaire come. He pushes Grantaire's pants down and strokes him, looking up to take in his expression, face flushed and eyes shut. Enjolras presses a light kiss to the head of Grantaire's cock, and then experimentally licks the same spot. Grantaire's breath hitches loudly, and that's all the encouragement Enjolras needs.

He wraps his lips around the head of Grantaire's cock, still stroking along its length. Grantaire's hands go to his hair, tugging. Enjolras moans, and Grantaire echoes it.

They're clumsy and inexperienced and Enjolras can't even bring himself to care when Grantaire is moaning loudly, pulling Enjolras back up and scrambling to undo his belt so they can jerk each other off. They pull apart just long enough to get naked and then they're on the couch again, wrapped around each other. They come into each other's hands, moaning into their kiss, and all Enjolras can think of is how much more of this he needs in his life. 

The best thing about this, however, is the complete lack of hesitation when Grantaire wraps his arms around Enjolras' shoulders and kisses him. He knows he belongs here. Enjolras smiles and kisses him back, thinking that he could definitely get used to this.

As it turns out, there's not a lot to get used to anyway. They've already grown accustomed to spending a lot of their spare time with each other and now that they don't need to worry about whether it's something they're allowed to do, they only end up spending even more time with each other. The general reaction among all of their friends is somewhere between smug and relieved, absolutely none of them surprised by this development. Enjolras can't even bring himself to mind the fact that he and Grantaire had been the last to realise, because they'd gotten there in the end, and that's all that really matters.

They're walking to Grantaire's place hand in hand, two days after they'd kissed in the Musain, when Grantaire freezes up.

"What's wrong?" 

"My parents," Grantaire says quietly, his eyes fixed on a car parked outside his building. "That's them."

Grantaire's father is of a stocky build, with a lined face that makes him look like he's been frowning all his life. Grantaire's mother looks just like him, dark curls pinned up and shining with product. Neither of them look particularly happy to be here, and Enjolras tightens his grip on Grantaire's hand and continues walking down the path.

"There you are," his father says impatiently, noticing Grantaire when he walks closer. "We've been here for an hour now, where the hell have you been?"

"I had my phone on me," Grantaire replies. "You could have called, if you really wanted, but we both know you don't."

His grip on Enjolras' hand is so tight that it's nearly painful. Grantaire's mother turns to him, raising an eyebrow. "Who are you?"

"Enjolras," he introduces himself, not offering either of them a hand, but the smile he usually reserves for police officers and other authority figures he wants to intimidate. "I'm R's boyfriend."

"You can't be very important," Grantaire's father sneers. "I've never heard of you."

"I've known him for… two years now." It's the truth. He bites back a grin as Grantaire tilts his head just slightly, the way he's taken to doing, to show off the hickey Enjolras had given him. Giving Grantaire's parents an unimpressed look, he adds, "He's never bothered to mention you, either." 

Grantaire's parents look between them, like they're completely unsure of what to say. Enjolras scoffs quietly and tugs on Grantaire's hand. 

"Come on, you promised me we'd go to your exhibit again." 

Grantaire glances in his parents direction and gives them a cheery wave. "See you next time I'm conveniently on the way to something more important, yeah?" 

He doesn't wait for their reply, following Enjolras into the building. They smile at each other, and by the time they've climbed the stairs and reached Grantaire's door, they both burst into laughter.

"Fuck," Grantaire is still laughing as he unlocks his door. "After all of that, you didn't even kiss me in front of them."

"I can fix that," Enjolras murmurs, following Grantaire inside. 

"I think you should," Grantaire tells him, and he's barely even finished speaking before Enjolras kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him again.


End file.
